Traditions
by Midnight Raptor
Summary: House hates Christmas. Especially the traditions that go with it. So which one could possibly change his mind? Huddy. One-shot.


Pairing: House/Cuddy

A/N: I know Christmas kinda passed already but I just got around to posting this. This'll be my first Huddy fic. I thought I'd give it a go and I'm quite proud of it. Please excuse any typos you might find. I editted this real fast so there might be a few. Anyway, here it is. Enjoy. And please leave a review to tell me what you think. :)

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Traditions

Christmas. That wonderful time when people took one day out of the whole year to celebrate the bonds of family and the joys of the spirit of giving. Fires are lit, carols are sung and heartwarming stories of cheer and friendship are shared over a mug of hot coca. Hoping they've been good all year, children make lists of the things they'd like to receive from jolly old St. Nicholas, squirming with excited impatience as they await the tell-tale "click-click-click" of hooves on their roofs. It was the season of giving, of hospitality, of forgiveness, of love. It was celebrated almost universally in one way or another, by various cultures and religions, each giving its own distinct name for the holiday. Everyone loved Christmas.

_Yeah, right_, a tall, slightly dishevled man grumbles silently. Of all the season of the year, of all the holidays, feasts, holy days of obligation, or whatever else people called them around the world, this was the one he hated most. The celebration centered around the extremely naive and childish notion that the world was a decent place filled with hope, love, and charity that seemingly spread from one person to another by the meer thought of it. And then there was the matter of Santa Claus, the ficticious bearded man who, if he even did exist, the CDC would classify as being morbidly obese due to his yearly consumption of what had to be about four million cookies. And yet this was the same man idolized by millions of children around the world, the man to whom countless letters are mailed to, all showcasing the greedy demands of said children after they had hounded their parents, to no avail, for months on end for that new X-Box or IPhone. Conclusion: People didn't love Christmas. They needed it.

He takes another sip of his scotch, eyeing the fesitivties going on around him with bored exasperation. The lobby had been decorated, per usual, with the traditional shimmering garland and tinsel hanging from every surface they could be hung. Icicle Christmas lights adorned the windows and railings overhead causing the room to twinkle with what he would call "the illusion of Christmas joy" since there was no such thing. Throughout the lobby, doctors, nurses, interns, and the rest of the staff of PPTH were milling aorund in their formal attire, some wearing Santa hats while others sported Rudolph noses, elf ears, or other holiday wear.

He rolls his eyes. This was definitely the one and only Christmas benefit he was ever attending.

Draining the rest of this drink in one gulp, he signals the bartender for another.

"Not unless you wanna spend Christmas in Trenton P.D. with DUI charges." says the bartender as he shakes a martini for a board member whose name House couldn't remember.

He taps his glass impatiently. "I'll take my chances."

The bartender glares at him for a moment before shrugging and pours the amber liquid into the empty glass, deciding that he didn't give a damn about the insufferable jerk anyway.

With his alcohol supply replenished, he resumes his silent brooding as the benefit continues on in full swing. A young intern siddles up to him, the neckline of her dark purple dress plunging dangerously low, leaving little to be desired. She proceeds to attempt to engage him in small talk, purposely standing too close to be deemed appropriate for such a conversation. Normally, he'd be game but tonight he just doesn't care. After he's made clear that he's not interested, she scowls and slinks away, once again leaving him along to this scotch. He has several other similar encounters as the night goes on and he treats them in the same manner.

In between driving away his would-be admirers, Wilson steps away from charming the newst nurse in OB-GYN to talk to him.

"Well, House," he says, walking up to him. "I do believe this is the longest you've ever voluntarily stayed at a benefit."

"They have the alcohol." he replies as he swirls the contents of his glass. He turns to this friend and eyes the reindeer antlers on his head with distaste. James Wilson had gone too far in impressing his soon to be girlfriend.

Wilson rolls his. "What'd Cuddy promise you?"

"Nothing." For once he was being truthful.

"A week of clinic duty?"

"She didn't promise me anything."

"A month?"

"No."

"Three months?"

This was getting old. "Why can't you just accept the fact that I've come to enjoy being around people?" he asks, sarcasm dripping from his voice. The truth is he does have an incentive for staying as long as he has but he isn't about to tell Wilson exactly what it is.

"Right." Wilson leans against the bar counter. "And Cameron kicked a dying puppy."

"Never underestimate the power of the will."

Again, Wilson rolls his eyes. It was almost impossible to have a mature conversation with the man. He watches as House proceeds to take another swig of scotch.

"Why don't you try some egg nog for a change?"

House glances sideways at him. "This tastes better."

"It's a Christmas tradition." Wilson tries again.

"Never been one for traditions." In fact, he hated them. the notion that there were certain customs that were followed simply because some idiot had decided long ago to pass them on, insuring that the rest of the future world would arbitrarily continue those absurdities made him sick. Egg nog, caroling, the cheery fire. The whole lot he despised.

"Oh, don't be such a Scrooge." Wilson says almost accusingly. "This is the one day in the whole year when people actually pretend to be nice to you and you're still bent on being an ass."

"So what you're saying is," he replies, putting fake consideration into this voice. "that since you're all pretending, I should just pretend that I give a crap about the world with you."

"If it makes you feel better by thinking about it like that, yeah." Wilson sighs.

He considers him for a moment before scoffing and finishes the rest of his scotch.

Seeing that it was a lost cause, Wilson raises his hands in defeat. "Fine. But don't come asking me for a ride later." With that, he turns and heads back to mingle with the others.

House shrugs and calls for another drink, popping a Vicodin into his mouth as he does so. He scans the lobby, searching for a particular satin red dress by spots none. He scowls, more annoyed with himself than anything.

The night wears on and after scotch number eight, he decides he's had enough. _What the hell am I doing_, he asks himself. He shoves his glass toward the bartender who automatically reaches to refill it.

He shakes his head. "I'm done."

Surprised, the man nods and removes the glass.

Quickly, he undoes his tie, which had been constricting him all night, before reaching for his cane and heading for the exit. He's scarcely gone a few steps when someone comes up to him. Someone in a satin red dress.

"House." Cuddy says, walking as fast as her three inch heels will allow. "Where're you going?"

"Home." he replies without stopping.

She glares at him. "Why? Did you forget that we happen to be in the middle of one of the most important benefits of the year?"

"The thought did cross me mind."

"Then you also know that I need you and every other doctor in this hospital here for the nest three hours."

"What? The funbags not enough to keep the benefactors entertained?"

She laughs inspite of herself. "Not today."

Having reached the glass entrance doors, he stops abruptly to face her. "Look, this is the first time I've ever shown up at a benefit without being bribed. I think I reserve the right to leave when I want." He looks at her and is puzzled to see that instead of a frown, the corners of her lips are being pulled into a small smile.

"Why are you smiling?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow suspiciously.

Her eyes dance with silent laughter. "Look up."

Scowling, he obliges and tilts his head back to look above him. There, hanging over his head like an executioner's blade, is a small sprig of a plant with green oval leaves and several small, white berries. Immediately, his palms start sweating and he curses himself for reaction this way.

He then turns his attention back to her, deciding to deal with this the only way he knew how: sarcastically. "Damn. I told the decorator to hang this by the nurses so Wilson would have an excuse to jump them. My bad."

"House."

"Although I suppose we could move it right now." he continues, dully noting the fact that she had lowered her voice. "You don't happen to have a pair of scissors, do you?"

"House."

"I mean, it's fine if you don't want to but I'd just hate keeping Wilson from having fun tonight."

"House!"

He gives up. "What?"

She steps close to him, placing a hand lightly on his tie. "Just kiss me."

And there it is. Another one of those Christmas traditions that he's sworn to hate of all eternity. But as he looks at Cuddy standing before him, he can't help by think just how beautiful she looks with her red, chin length dress and blue-green eyes that seemed to sparkle with a life of their own. And that's when he decides, _The hell with it_. Leaning down, he captures her lips with his own, completely taking her by surprise. She sways slightly, her stilleto heels offering little stability, so he quickly places his hands on her waist for support. Gently, he coaxes her lips open and slips his tongue in her mouth, smirking when he hears a soft moan escape her. Her own hands come to rest of his chest as she leans insistently into him. All at once, memories from the one night they had spent together almost 20 years ago come flooding back and he doesn't want it to stop. Unfortunately, his lungs being to scream for air after several seconds and he reluctantly pulls away. Slightly breathless, they stand there, looking at each other. It takes a few more moments before he recovers.

"Merry Christmas, Cuddy." he whispers, looking straight into her eyes.

Without waiting for her response, he pushes the door open and steps outside, leaving behind a Christmas benefit event and a speechless Dean of Medicine. Unconsciously, he raises a hand to rub his lips, recalling the feeling of Cuddy's own against them. He smiles. Maybe Christmas traditions weren't so bad after all.

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By the Christmas tree, Wilson peers interestedly at two certain doctors currently in the middle of a heated make-out session under some mistletoe. A young man beside him groans.

"But he hates Christmas." Chase complains.

"Apparently not enough to ignore one of its oldest traditions." He holds out a hand to his companion, smirking.

Grudgingly, Chase pulls out a $20 bill from his pocket and sticks it in Wilson's waiting hand.

Satisfied, Wilson turns his attention back to House who was now halfway out the door, a slightly dumbfounded Cuddy left standing under the mistletoe with a small smile creeping onto her face. He sighs. On the other hand, there were certain things that tradition could never change.

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A/N: I added that last part just for the heck of it. I liked the idea of Wilson making a bet on wheter House would honor the mistletoe tradition and kiss Cuddy or not. XP I got the idea of this fic after reading one of those online top 20 list things for TV characters people would most like to kiss under the mistletoe. And guess what? House was number 15. I personally think he should be number 1. XP Check my profile for the link.

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